Page 80 of An Unexpected Love

Charlotte’s hands were braced against his chest as he kissed her again, deeper, more fully. Again he kissed her, and again. Finally she broke away.

“Stop,” she pleaded. The words were breathless and he could feel her shudder.

Reluctantly, Jason pulled back. Their eyes met again, and for the second time that night, Jason had the feeling she was frightened, although he didn’t understand why. Wanting to comfort her, he traced a knuckle down the curve of her cheek.

“Carrie will be worried,” she said.

He said nothing.

“I can’t thank you enough. For saving Higgins. The dog.”

Again Jason said nothing.

“Jason,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me again.”

“I do.” He wasn’t going to lie about it.

He saw that her hand was shaking as she opened the car door and climbed out. She seemed eager to make her escape now.

“Good night,” she said with obvious false cheer.

“Little coward,” Jason muttered under his breath, amused. “Saturday morning!” he shouted after her.

“What time?” She turned to face him again.

“Nine-thirty. Is that too early?”

“I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll call you in the morning about Higgins.”

“Please,” she said, her eyes widening as though she’d momentarily forgotten the dog. “Oh, please do.” She snapped open her purse and withdrew a business card,walking toward him now. “This is my number at the office. I’ll be there after nine.”

“Then I’ll phone at nine.”

“’Night.”

“’Night,” he echoed, returning to his apartment.

He wasn’t there more than five minutes when his doorbell chimed. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for company, but as the building owner and manager, he couldn’t very well ignore a visitor.

He opened his door to discover Carrie standing on the other side, a covered plastic bowl in her hand. “These are for you.”

He accepted the container with a puzzled frown.

“Mom asked me to bring you some chocolate chip cookies,” she said, grinning broadly.

Five

“Mom, you look fine.”

“I don’t look fine… I look wretched,” Charlotte insisted, viewing her backside in the hallway mirror. She must’ve been mad to let Carrie talk her into buying jeans. Fashionably faded jeans, no less. Not only had she plunked down ninety bucks for the pair, they looked as if they’d spent the past ten years in someone’s attic.

“You’re acting like a little kid,” Carrie said, slapping her hands against her sides in disgust. “We’re going to a softball game, not the senior prom.”

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